


The Strings That Control the System (the Radically Theoretical remix)

by misura



Category: House M.D., Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 15:32:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4227201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know a guy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strings That Control the System (the Radically Theoretical remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Strings That Control the System](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038856) by [Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Aris Merquoni (ArisTGD)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArisTGD/pseuds/Aris%20Merquoni) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



"You're not a neurologist," Pentecost said. House would have distracted two points for that statement of the obvious, except for the fact that Pentecost had avoided a number of oh-so boring questions such as _'who are you and what are you doing here?'_ and _'how did you get into this locked and guarded office?'_.

Clearly, _someone_ had talked. House disapproved of that in principle; still, it was something he could work with. "No, but I know a guy."

Pentecost sat down like a man whose leg was hurting. Probably just tired, House judged. He imagined that saving the country might kind of take it out of a man. Not a woman, House didn't think. Women were tougher than that.

"You know a guy."

House considered getting annoyed at the lack of progression in the conversation. "Well, I know lots of guys, actually. In fact, all of my male friends are guys. Funny, huh? I mean, statistically, you'd think at least _some_ of them - "

"The name, please," Pentecost said. Interrupting a speech that hadn't been going anywhere - plus one point. "And I'll look into it. No promises."

"I'm here because I'm suffering from a brief delusion of patriotism, not because I want to get married." House paused. "Well, I might think about it. I mean, what with the end of the civilization as we know it coming up and everything."

Pentecost closed his eyes. "Ten seconds."

To play hardball or not to play hardball: always a tricky call to make. "Eric Foreman. Runs a private practice now, somewhere. Total waste. Probably dying for a new challenge. Not that he'll admit that out loud, of course, but hey, appeal to his patriotism, offer him a nice salary and I'm sure he'll bite."

"You could have sent me this information by e-mail," Pentecost said. "Or phone."

"You're planning to build giant robots to fight aliens from another dimension and you expect people to e-mail you?" House scoffed. "Are you crazy?"

"It's been suggested," Pentecost said dryly.

"Well, I'm no more of a psychiatrist than I'm a neurologist, so no worries," House said cheerfully.


End file.
